


Daisies, Poppies, and One Red Rose

by Mithen



Series: Slumbers Deep and Dreams of Gold [6]
Category: The Hobbit
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Presents, Cultural Differences, Flowers, M/M, Mortality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 16:26:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo's birthday arrives while the Company is on the road, and hobbits and dwarves disagree on both birthday protocol and the value of certain gifts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daisies, Poppies, and One Red Rose

"Beorn's hall is just a day's walk from here," Gandalf said as they sat down for a brief respite from their long walk. "If we handle him carefully, we shall find food and lodging, and perhaps an ally."

Thorin glared up at Gandalf. "I do not appreciate being herded like sheep by you, wizard."

Gandalf's eyebrows rose alarmingly. "You will have to make your own way soon enough, Master Oakenshield!"

Thorin's face darkened further, and Bilbo remembered suddenly that he had lost the shield from which he had earned his name. But he said nothing more, merely turning from the wizard to check on his company's condition. They were all tired and hungry, but when Kili suggested he could shoot a rabbit for lunch, Gandalf told him in no uncertain terms that no animal was to be harmed while they were on Beorn's lands.

"First the elves and now this fellow--is there no one in Middle Earth who eats decently?" Bombur complained, and Bilbo's pinched and growling stomach agreed with him.

"Can we at least have some of the apples from the trees?" Kili asked plaintively, eyeing the heavy-laden branches all around them.

"Well, I can't imagine Beorn would miss a few apples," said Gandalf, and Fili and Kili took off to start shaking fruit down from the trees with cheerful shouts. They came back happily juggling fourteen apples between them, tossing one to each of the party (Bilbo barely managed to get his hand up in time before his apple smacked him between the eyes).

The apples were delicious, crisp and sweet as honey, and for a time they simply sat and ate in contented silence. Bilbo couldn't help but admire the profusion of flowers all around them--ever since entering Beorn's lands there had been flowers of every sort scenting the air in a riot of brilliant colors. "So many flowers," he murmured. "And so late in the season! Why, it must be..." He broke off. "My goodness, what's the date?"

His question was greeted with frowns and debate, and a great deal of counting on fingers and argument about how many days had passed since they left Rivendell, but eventually Ori pulled out his notebook and determined that it must be September 22.

Bilbo jumped to his feet in consternation. "What? But this is terrible!"

"What's the matter?" asked Bofur, concerned.

"It's my birthday!" Bilbo announced.

He was taken aback by the reaction of the dwarves: sighs and crestfallen looks. "It was decided at the beginning of our journey that we do not have time for such things," growled Thorin. "You will simply have to put off your vigil until we have retaken Erebor."

"Vigil?" Bilbo's face scrunched up in confusion, and Gandalf seemed to decide to step in before the confusion got out of hand.

"Hobbits," he said to the company, "Celebrate birthdays rather differently than dwarves."

"Oh? How do you celebrate your birthdays?" Bilbo asked.

"A birthday is a solemn and sacred occasion," Balin intoned. "A day to put aside for contemplation of one's failures and re-dedication to one's goals."

"Oh," said Bilbo. "Well that's...rather somber. I expected there would be more...you know, head-smashing and crockery-breaking."

Dwalin guffawed. "That's for _normal days_ , lad!"

"I...I see."

"And how do your folk celebrate?" Fili asked, tossing his apple core into the bushes.

"Oh, when it's our birthday, we give presents to all our friends." Bilbo clapped his hands to his head in fresh horror. "And I don't have anything for any of you!" He looked around wildly. "All right, wait here, I'll be right back. I have an idea."

"Do not take long," Thorin called after him as he began to hurry away. "We do not have much time to waste with hobbit silliness."

Bilbo turned back to give Thorin an exasperated look, his hands on his hips. "You know, you don't have to act like _every_ day is your birthday," he said, and was gone again.

"He has a point," Dwalin said, raising an eyebrow at Thorin.

Thorin grunted and ignored him. "Will he be safe?" he asked Gandalf.

"These lands are relatively peril-free," said Gandalf.

"Relatively." Thorin stood up and grabbed his axe. "A wizard's concept of 'relatively safe' is certainly not safe enough for a hobbit," he said, and started after Bilbo.

**: : :**

Thorin found Bilbo in a clearing filled with flowers of more kinds than he could name or even imagine, hurrying here and there on busy bare feet. "Mignonette, marigold, hollyhock, delphinium, mullein, poppy--it isn't even poppy season, how amazing!" The hobbit turned to Thorin with a delighted smile. "Isn't this lovely?"

"I guess." The sight was nothing to a dwarf who had seen rivers of gold or the Arkenstone pulsing like a living heart, but the flowers were pretty enough, Thorin supposed.

"It makes me miss the Gamgee gardens," Bilbo sighed. "If you ever come back to the Shire, I shall show them to you."

Thorin bit back a remark about how likely it was he would ever be visiting the Shire again. "Is that the house behind yours? I might have...trampled them a bit, looking for your place. Well, you should have clearer signs," he said as Bilbo looked stricken. "It was just some flowers, they'll grow back."

Bilbo opened his mouth as if to retort, but frowned and said nothing. "Don't you have gardens?" he asked after a moment.

Thorin snorted. "There's little sunlight in our mountain halls," he said. "Flowers and green things are not for our kind."

"What a shame," Bilbo said softly. He broke off a last flower to add to the heaping armful. "I'm ready to head back," he said.

At the camp, he bustled around, distributing a flower to each member of the party. "A hollyhock for Gandalf. Marigolds for Balin and Dwalin, daisies for Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur, delphiniums for Oin and Gloin," he muttered, leaving each bemused dwarf holding a sprig of greenery. "Yellow mullein for Ori, Dori, and Nori, and red poppies for Fili and Kili. No, no, no," he broke off to shake a finger at Bifur, "They're not for eating."

"Well, what are they for, then?" Ori said with some suspicion, as Bifur plucked a petal from his mouth and looked sheepish.

"They're--well, they're pretty, aren't they? They're presents. From me." Bilbo bounced on the balls of his feet and looked pleased with himself. "Oh, and there was one rosebush," he said, handing Thorin a large deep-red flower with a strong and pleasant scent. Thorin sniffed it dubiously. "Careful, it's got thorns," Bilbo warned.

"I know!" Kili announced, a smile brightening his face. "I saw some of the people in the Blue Mountains with these. They put them in their hair, like jewelry."

There was a chorus of _Ohhh_ s from the company, and the dwarves obediently tucked the flowers into their hair: behind their ears or into their braids. After a moment Thorin shrugged and followed suit, securing the rose in his hair, cursing slightly as the thorns tangled on his braids.

The look on Bilbo's face made Thorin suspect that perhaps Kili hadn't quite gotten it right. "Is there something wrong?" he growled.

"No, no, not at all! You all look quite nice. Quite nice indeed."

Thorin gave Gandalf a suspicious look, but the wizard had tucked his sky-blue hollyhock onto the brim of his hat and wouldn't meet Thorin's eyes.

As they gathered up their things and prepared to start walking again, Fili said, "So how old are you, Mr. Baggins?"

"Why, I've just turned fifty-one," Bilbo said, bending to pick up his bag.

Fili dropped his knives with a clatter of consternation. "Fifty--! Gandalf, you didn't tell us you'd hired us a _baby_ for a burglar!"

The other dwarves murmured with shock, and Thorin stomped over to Gandalf and glared up at him. "Wizard, you should have told us he was still a child. I will _not_ \--"

"--I am not a child!" Bilbo's voice cut through the angry grumbling of the dwarves. He crossed his arms and glared at them all. "I'll have you know, in fact, that I am quite a respectable middle age."

Thorin looked from him to Gandalf, his eyes narrowed, and Gandalf nodded. "Hobbits rarely live much past a century."

Ori was staring at Bilbo. "You mean you're even younger than I am?" The thought seemed to cause him a great deal of glee.

Bilbo looked flustered. "Just how old are you?"

"I'm seventy," Ori said. "Thorin wouldn't take anyone under seventy." He peered at Bilbo's annoyed face. "I mean, I _thought_ you looked young, but I presumed it was just the lack of a beard..."

"I am not happy about this," Thorin growled at Gandalf.

"For heaven's sake," huffed Gandalf. "You must stop measuring all the world by dwarf standards, Thorin. I assure you that as hobbits go, Bilbo Baggins is in the prime of life--perhaps even slightly beyond it."

Bilbo bounced on his toes. "See? I told you--hey!"

Thorin glared at him and at Gandalf, unable to express--or even quite to understand--why the idea that hobbits' lives were so short was so discomfiting. He finally settled for announcing, "Let's go," and turning away to stride onward. The other dwarves fell into step behind him, and soon Fili and Kili were composing a song they called "Baby Burglar Bilbo's Birthday," much to Bilbo's annoyance.

"Would you stop that?" Thorin heard him bluster, and turned to see his nephews hoisting the hobbit onto their shoulders, singing about "the bitty baby burglar like a birdie in his nest" as they walked along, their matching red poppies gleaming in their hair. Thorin considered chastising them, but he was annoyed enough at Bilbo that he was rather enjoying seeing him put out, so he held his tongue, and even joined in the chorus when it came around again.

Bilbo crossed his arms as Fili and Kili carried him along, looking almost irritated enough to mollify Thorin's foul temper. And so the miles fell away as they walked on toward Beorn's hall, until they stopped late in the afternoon to rest once more.

"Hey, your flower," Fili said, plucking the poppy from Kili's hair. It was already drooping, its petals crumpled. He cast Bilbo an apologetic look. "What did we do wrong?"

"Wrong? Nothing at all," Bilbo said. "That's what happens to flowers when they've been picked and there's no water to put them in."

Kili grabbed the wilted poppy away from Fili's hand. "So if we'd had water, they'd have stayed alive?"

"For a few days, yes."

"A few days?" Kili's face wrinkled with distress. "That's hardly any time at all."

Thorin reached behind his ear and extricated his scarlet rose. Red petals rained down like drops of blood as he pulled it free. "This is why dwarves work with gold and jewels," he said, looking down at the fading flower. "They do not pass in the span of a day, but live on in beauty forever."

"Some things are more beautiful for being brief," Bilbo said softly.

Thorin tossed the flower into the bushes. "A ruby is fairer than a rose," he said. "And does not grieve one with its passing."

Bilbo looked like he wanted to argue, but shook his head instead and let it go, to Thorin's relief. They passed around the canteens and talked of other things until it was time to travel once more.

As Thorin stood, a flutter of crimson caught his eye and he plucked it from the air without thinking. Between his fingers was a single velvety-red petal.

After looking to make sure no one was watching, he slipped it into a pocket: a tiny spark of scarlet against his heart.


End file.
